Seeker's Game
by CupCakeyyy
Summary: Yeah... next time, Draco will take the time to go back to the castle and get his bloody broomstick...


Got some exciting things planned for the (hopefully rather near) future, so stay tuned!

 _Forum:_ Harry Potter's World

 _House:_ Ravenclaw

 _Quidditch Pitch prompts:_

(Weather) Ice Rain

(Non-canon pairing) Harry x Draco

(Quidditch terms) Quaffle _,_ Nimbus 2000, Nimbus 2001, Firebolt, Cleansweep 5

(Quidditch Players) Madam Hooch, Oliver Wood, Cho Chang

 _Disclaimer:_ This story ignores Oliver's age. Don't get confused :) Harry and Draco are fifteen, Oliver is seventeen.

Enjoy reading :D

* * *

 **Seeker's Game**

It was the middle of November and the weather was unforgiving. The wind was freezing and so powerful that he was in constant danger of being blown right over. The trees were swaying dangerously and even the Whomping Willow had given up going against the wind. Draco squinted towards the sky and glared suspiciously at the dark grey clouds.

"At least the ice rain has stopped for now," he muttered and crossed his fingers to keep it that way. He didn't particularly fancy strolling around Hogwarts' grounds in pelting rain that could turn him into a dripping ice statue.

But why was he outside in a weather like this, you ask? Well, Draco couldn't take the constant wooing of Daphne Greengrass anymore.

His parents had set up a marriage contract about two years ago, binding him to Daphne's younger sister, Astoria. Astoria was a delicate girl, very shy, thin and small. Her blonde hair looked too much like his own and her pale skin was too fair to show any contrast when being close to his. All in all, she might be of pure blood and of a good family, but she was plain boring. That wouldn't keep him from marrying her one day, of course, but he wouldn't waste his time trying to court her when he could enjoy his life before their bonding, now would he?

He sighed and wrapped his cloak tighter around his body. It was bloody cold and he was starting to regret fleeing like that in the first place.

Scowling at everything, he made his way down to the Quidditch pitch, without really noticing where he was going. The soft swishing sound of a broom flying through the air got drowned out by the howling of the wind that was rattling at the Shrieking Shack in the distance, so, as he got onto the pitch, he froze as he saw a rather large bird swoop through the air. Squinting his eyes, he realised it was a person on a broom, not some bird of prey out of his blood.

His gaze travelled over the empty stands and stopped at a heavy looking trunk on one side of the pitch. A smirk spread over his face as he strolled over and peeked inside. Every ball was in its own compartment, the Bludgers were strapped in securely, only the small slaps that usually hit the snitch were open. His smirk widened as his head jerked upwards.

He watched the Seeker fly through the air, making risky manoeuvres and downright stupid swerves. He knew that person. After all, who else would be dumb enough to actually go flying when there could be a lightning storm coming their way?

Bending down, he picked the Quaffle out of the trunk and let it hop from hand to hand. Its soft leather brushed against his palms as he watched the lone figure practise flying moves, all the while keeping an eye out for the snitch.

He had to admit, albeit somewhat reluctantly, that the movements had something almost elegant about them. The style of flying was different for everyone, and looking at the person in the sky right now, Draco was reminded of a hunter, almost. The movements were sharp and aggressive, the swoops fast and reckless, yet there was an odd sense of security about it. The flyer knew he had the broom under his control and nothing would happen to him. The loops and sharp turns looked smooth, almost graceful.

So, he leaned back against the Quidditch Hut that contained the main four changing rooms and showers, and prepared to watch the Gryffindor. Maybe he could find out which moves he would be using in the upcoming Quidditch match against his house? Or just enjoy the view... Yeah, definitely the latter.

*~*Seeker's Game*~*

Harry gripped his broom's handle tighter. The Firebolt answered instantly, swooping down at a breakneck speed, shooting towards the ground, only to be pulled out of it at the last moment.

Adrenaline flooded through his veins as he did loop after loop, ignoring the ice cold wind against his already reddened cheeks. His hair was damp, sticking to the sides of his face.

A surprised yelp escaped him. A particularly stubborn gust of wind hit him in the side, pushing him to his left. An exhilarated grin spread over his sore face as he felt the broom vibrate softly underneath him. His old Nimbus 2000 wouldn't have been able to balance the different directions of the wind as easily as his trusty Firebolt could and he laughed, pulling the handle up and the broom into a tight loop.

Flying always gave him the feeling of complete and utter freedom and peace. Although, he had immediately come out as soon as the ice rain had stopped, fully intending on getting a few last minute snitch catches in before tomorrow's match against Ravenclaw, he couldn't help it, but ignore the snitch altogether and just enjoy being out here on his own.

Being alone had been something difficult to come by as of lately. With the Order of the Phoenix reunited and active once again, he was under constant stress. He knew what it all meant – that Voldemort was getting more powerful, although no-one fully believed him.

On top of that, Umbridge was making his life hell on earth and his friends' constant questions about what he planned on doing about his crush on Cho Chang were really trying his patience. It was true, he had fancied the Ravenclaw last year, but after all that had happened at the end of the Tournament, it didn't feel right to act on it. If he was completely honest with himself, he wasn't even sure anymore if he really liked the pretty Asian girl all that much...

He sighed heavily, all feeling of peace and freedom gone. The cold wind lashed against his sore skin, his wet hair about to freeze solid. He didn't know what to think about much of anything lately. He wasn't sure if the friendship he had had with people like Seamus had been honest in the last couple of years, if the rest of the wizarding world didn't just want him in the lime light so that they could have someone to pull through the dirt once everything else got boring and old... even Malfoy had stopped his hateful comments.

He shook his head, pulling his broom to a stop. His feet were dangling underneath him, one hand on the handle, the other one rubbish over his forehead.

He didn't know what to think of anything anymore and it was driving him crazy.

*~*Seeker's Game*~*

Draco frowned as Potter came to an abrupt stop, completely giving up on catching the snitch. Hovering about fifteen metres above the ground, not moving, letting the cold wind batter his body...

Draco scowled and dropped the Quaffle back into the truck. The Bludgers gave an aggressive jerk, eager to be released, but the young Slytherin didn't plan on doing that. Instead, he turned on his heels, pulled open the doors to the broom closet and grabbed the first broomstick he could get his hands on. Once he was back on the pitch, he took a closer look at the broom and groaned immediately.

The school brooms were just about the worst broomsticks one could find in all of Great Britain. The long since outdated models were wonky, battered and so uncontrollable that he had second thought on getting on one. The only good thing they could be used for was to swipe the street with.

He sighed heavily and forced himself to swing his right leg over the broom, kicking off forcefully as soon as he had a secure grip on the handle, and immediately regretted ever doing this.

The broom make violent jerks in all directions and started vibrating as if it was about to explode.

Draco let out an unmanly squeal as the broom lost its hold in the air and dropped two metres before remembering it had a hover charm on it. He missed his Nimbus 2001, he thought dejectedly. Maybe he should just try to land as safely and injury-free as he could and go to the dungeons to get his own broomstick? A violent jerk to the left convinced him that he would not survive a landing on this thing and instead, the blond wizard cursed and forced the handle of the broom upwards and towards the ignorant Gryffindor, who was still merely resting on his racing broom, staring blankly into space.

He tried to come to a halt right next to the raven-haired wizard, but being unable to control a broom this old and simply broken at all, he shot right past him. It wouldn't have been that bad if he had not bumped right into the Firebolt's tail, causing it to spin to the side and him to fly in a zick-zack pattern, screaming embarrassingly until he came to a wobbling stop.

"Bloody hell," he wheezed out and cautiously steered the broom to his left. He nearly managed to turn it around and look at Potter from a distance, but then the damn broom gave yet another sudden jerk towards the ground. Now he was hovering about three metres underneath the very confused looking black-haired wizard, trying his best to look somewhat dignified; out of breath, sweaty, shaken and absolutely not superior. This bloody broomstick would not make a fool out of a Malfoy! Hell, no!

"Potter," he said, the signature smirk on his face. "It's a surprise to see you out here."

The Gryffindor stared at him for about five second before breaking out into booming laughter. Tears started streaming down his face, as he grabbed his sides.

Draco rolled his eyes and huffed. "Yeah, yeah, let's all laugh at the blond guy because he dared to get onto a school broom. Oh, ha bloody ha."

That only caused Potter to laugh harder. He doubled over, now completely leaning onto the thick piece of wood underneath him. Both hands had left its handle and it annoyed Draco beyond believe.

"Have you calmed down, yet?" Grey eyes rolled as the blond waited for the insufferable and oddly adorable looking wizard to start breathing normally again.

Potter gave a few little hiccups and wipes his sleeve over his streaming eyes. A grin as wide as Draco had never seen before threatened to split his red face in half.

"Sorry," he gasped and a new wave of giggle hit him.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"But seeing you clumsy was not something I was prepared for, you know?" His eyes sparkled with mirth and something that Draco refused to decipher.

"Yeah, you try to look elegant flying a bloody Cleansweep 5, Potter, and see who laughs at whom."

When Potter calmed down, he swooped over to him, looking annoyingly sexy doing it. Damn it, he wasn't helping with his stupid infatuation...

If he was honest, Daphne hadn't been the only reason he had run out of the common room at a speed that Centaurs would be proud of. Blaise and Pansy, his two over nice, wicked and funny, if sometimes incredibly annoying, friends had been too understanding of his _phase_. He shuddered. Listening to _"Go and talk to him already"_ and _"I know you do, but being rude to him won't make him like you, you know?"_ had done with the rest of his patience and he had simply not cared about how his retreat out of Slytherin territory had looked like. Now he wished that he had, because he was sure to have to listen people recall it for at least two months.

Draco's scowl deepened as he looked at the subject of his fantasies and couldn't help but feel slightly guilty upon seeing confusion wash away the carefree amusement that had made the bright green sparkle beautifully.

An unexpected jerk from his broom ripped him out of his thoughts brutally. His arms waved through the air, trying desperately to get a hold on the Cleansweep's handle.

Potter chuckled, Draco glared.

"Madam Hooch should really get Dumbledore to invest in new school brooms, should she?"

The sparkling in his eyes was back, so Draco didn't care that Potter was basically laughing _about_ him and not _with_ him.

"Damn right, he should! If my father cared enough, he'd probably buy a set, but neither can I be bothered to tell him, nor could he be bothered to listen even _if_ I should tell him." Draco scratched his ear, shrugging.

He was oddly at ease around Potter, something that he would never confess to anyone but himself, and even with that he was having troubles. But people said that comprehension was the first step towards healing, right? Right.

"So," he said, feeling slightly awkward about how Potter just stared at him. He was desperately willing himself not to blush. "Fancy a little match to see who the better Seeker is?"

*~*Seeker's Game*~*

Harry couldn't believe his eyes as he saw a faint pink creep over Malfoy's cheek, tainting them in a soft rose. He was trying his best to look nonchalant and at ease, but Harry knew better. The blond lashes brushed against the rose cheeks, caressing the soft skin right underneath those silver eyes...

He gasped at his thoughts. What...? What had just...? Oh, no.

Harry shook his head to vanish those disturbing thoughts out of his mind. He was probably looking utterly insane right now, but he couldn't care less. Had he just gushed about how beautiful Malfoy...

Wait a second! Did he just put the word _beautiful_ in the same context as _Malfoy?_ Ahhhh...

He had to get a hold on himself. He knew, he was under a lot of stress at the moment, but he hadn't lost his mind yet... right? Or had his detention sessions in Umbridge's office done it for him? Had she finally succeeded in turning him into the lunatic the _Daily Prophet_ swore that he was?

Bloody hell, no!

"Are you quite alright, Potter?"

The posh and oddly endearing accent made Harry blink and focus his gaze on Malfoy. The git was frowning worriedly at him, as if he... _Worriedly?_ Oh Merlin, what was going on here?!

"'Course I am," Harry managed to mumble and hurried to pull his broom, and thus himself, away from the adorably confused blond.

Harry was starting to freak out. What kind of char-... _curse_ had that idiot put on him to make him think things as disturbing as...?

He couldn't think straight anymore. He had to seriously get a hold on himself; and fast!

"What are you waiting for, Malfoy," he called over the pitch to distract both him and the handsome wizard, who hadn't moved an inch from the spot the Cleansweep was struggling to stay on. "Up for a round of Seeker's Game? Or are you scared that you might lose?"

Harry struggled to put on a smirk as potent as his opponent's, but upon seeing Malfoy's face, knew he had failed horribly.

"You wish."

And so they swerved out towards the hoops, or at least Harry did, as Malfoy struggled to stay on the broom. Harry stifled a laugh at the last moment and decided to enjoy the view that he was being given.

Seeing Malfoy as utterly helpless as he was right now was a sight for itself, but hearing his soft and barely suppressed squeals of terror was simply hilarious.

The Cleansweep didn't understand what Malfoy wanted it to do. It swerved down as he leaned to his left and started jerking to both sides as the blond wizard pulled on the handle.

A frustrated growl escaped through those sensual lips and Harry didn't even notice where his thoughts were heading again, as he appreciated what was happening right now, for once subconsciously enjoying the moment.

Malfoy's back was rigid, his muscles underneath his cloak not visible, yet easy to guess. His shoulders were stiff as he struggled with the stubborn broomstick, his legs almost desperately clenched together to keep the old and faulty flying device from throwing him right off.

Harry bit his lip gingerly, as he forced himself not to laugh out loud.

"Having problems over there, Malfoy?" he called over the pitch and started to lazily direct the Firebolt towards the centre line.

"What does it look like, Potter?" came the, surprisingly worried sounding, yet forceful, answer.

Grinning like mad, Harry decided that it was time to put the poor blond out of his misery, and he leaned forward to push his broomstick over to the other side of the pitch, just as an angry voice caused him to stop.

An annoyed groan made him glance over to Malfoy, who had managed to stabilize his broomstick enough to simply hover in the air.

As Harry followed the Slytherin's heated gaze, he spotted a beet-red Oliver Wood storming out of the Quidditch Hut and over to the centre of the pitch.

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" he screamed and started motioning them to land immediately. "Harry, get down here this instant! Malfoy! I want to have a word with you!"

"Oh, here we go," Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned towards Harry. His cheeks darkened again and he ducked slightly. "Do you mind...?"

The Gryffindor smiled softly and steered his broomstick over to the blond, who looked really uncomfortable. Grabbing the handle of the rubbish Cleansweep, Harry's fingers slightly brushed over Malfoy's hand, causing both to gasp and stare at each other. His stomach made somersaults and the dark-haired boy felt lightheaded.

Staring at the blond, having the other stare right back, Harry jumped as Wood started yelling at the top of his lungs to _get the fuck down there immediately or else!_

Harry blushed deep red and nodded as Malfoy mumbled that they should probably listen to the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain to avoid any more ruckus.

As they landed, the angry seventh year stormed right over. "What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" Oliver yelled as he made his way over to the two boys, who were looking at each other in confusion.

"Excuse me?" Malfoy's eyebrows climbed higher and higher until he looked as disbelieving as humanly possible. The slight down-the-nose-look fit perfectly, Harry thought, amused, and turned to his captain.

"Oliver, he didn't do-"

"Don't you tell me he didn't do anything, Harry!" The older boy interrupted him with a glare. "You very well know that we have a game tomorrow, and I told you to relax and save your strength for tomorrow's match! Do you want Chang to catch the snitch and make me look like an utter fool as a captain?" He threw his arms up in the air, exasperated.

Harry shrunk away from the yelling seventeen year old, feeling guilty. Oliver had told him to stay away from his broom for at least one day before the match against Ravenclaw because he had known that his Seeker wouldn't have been able to relax himself for two or three days. Yet, Harry had gone and proven him wrong. Again.

"Sorry, Oliver," he mumbled and let his gaze fall to the ground.

"Very right you are! And you!" He turned to Malfoy and pointed a threatening finger to the Slytherin, who merely sneered at him. "I don't know what you're on about, but I will not have you either spy on our techniques, nor injure my Seeker, because you will never be good enough to beat him in a fair match!"

"Are you quiet finished?" Malfoy's sneer widened as he glared at the Gryffindor Captain. "I merely came out here to go for a flight. That Harry was here was an absolute surprise to me when I arrived. I certainly haven't planned on this, Merlin behold!"

Harry blinked and gaped at Malfoy as he used his first name in front of Oliver Wood, who looked ready to behead the Slytherin, cut him into bite size pieces and eat him for dinner.

"Watch out what you're saying, Malfoy," Oliver hissed and stepped closer to the blond. "Don't forget that I can't just deduct points. And Harry? We'll talk about this later."

Harry nodded distractedly and hurried after Malfoy, who had just upped and left in the middle of Oliver's rant.

"Hey, sorry about that," he mumbled as he reached the Slytherin.

Malfoy huffed and turned his head halfway towards the Gryffindor. "How can you deal with him on a weekly basis?"

"Almost every day, actually," Harry smiled sheepishly and felt his anger towards his captain subside.

Malfoy gaped at him. "Merlin, I feel sorry for you."

"Yeah, thanks."

They walked in amicable silence.

As they reached the castle's walls, Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm and pulled him to a stop.

Blond eyebrows started to lift again, but the wizard stayed silent as he waited patiently for Harry to gather his thoughts. It was kind of creeping him out.

"Want to repeat that some other day?" Harry asked shyly and let go of Malfoy's arm. "With a proper broom of course."

A smile tucked at Malfoy's lips, which he wasn't quick enough to disguise. Harry grinned widely and wiggled his eyebrows at the blond suggestively. "What do you think?"

"I think Wood will never catch that snitch that you let loose and never caught," the Malfoy heir answered snobbishly and turned to make his way into the castle, leaving Harry standing at the bottom on the steps.

Harry opened his mouth to yell after him, not quite sure whether he should feel hurt or indignant, as Draco turned around and looked over his shoulder, a soft smile gracing his handsome features.

"Thursday after dinner. Don't be late."

* * *

Oh, I just love writing about Drarry, as you all sure know by now _laughs_

I hope you enjoyed reading this! I really enjoyed writing Draco being less than elegant for a change xD

As always, leave a comment and tell me what you think. I always love reading and answering them. They make my day!

Until next time - see ya!


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